On My Way Out
by amyheartsricky
Summary: One friend down, how many more to go?


AUTHOR'S NOTE: so i wanted to work on vulnerable but thats not really an option at the moment - or possibly ever. long story short, i cant get to anything on my laptop (because its stupid and very broken) so i cant finish up the last chapter and i dont rewrite things - it just wouldnt come out the way it was and ill be disappointed and not post it anyway. nyways, this is how this came about. obviously, i was very inspired to write for wilson after the last few episodes (**!**) so i just went ahead and started writing, not even sure where i was going with it, as you can probably tell. so this is just an angsty will-drabble. _angsty angst angst_ - gotta love it

xxo - Desiree

* * *

_"I don't want anything to do with you anymore."_

One friend down, how many more to go?

He knew it would happen, with Tad to be specific. Everyone else was a giant question mark, one that he worried and worried at until it sent his head and heart into a frenzied panic. But Tad. T he would lose for sure. He didn't need Sonny coming to town and stirring a reaction out of him to know that his ex-best friend was homophobic. It was why he'd never even tried to keep in contact once T had up and left Salem. Maybe he'd known all his friends would start to peel themselves away with the arrival of their best new gay pal Sonny, either way he'd worked out for himself that it was time to go. Not for good, no, he hadn't quite had his say yet.

Until now, of course. Will imagined there wasn't much more bitterness he could spew around anymore, at least not where he was concerned.

A friendship lost. One not all that great to begin with, still...

All his worst fears, laid out in one short conversation between two people who would never see eye to eye again. All for that one reason.

Because he's gay, because...

Because he's who he is. Because he's stopped pretending. Has he really? The thought only makes his head hurt more; his head thumps repeatedly on jean-clad knees, trying to push the thoughts, T's words, every sick feeling swirling around in that tortured little mind of his, just barely giving it any effort (if he's due for a crash, why push it off? he reasons, but maybe he's just tired of fighting. Of having something to fight against.)

Everything's a little blurred after T and him part ways (for good.) He holed up some place in the town square, allowing himself (pathetically so) to wallow in his own misery for a while. The thought of his family, Sonny, hadn't even registered. Not until he heard that familiar voice, filled with such obvious relief and caring, that twisted his stomach to knots and told to him to _run, do it now, go. _But of course he went nowhere, did nothing, just let Sonny's senseless adoration and soft assurances wash all over him until it was suddenly too much and Sonny was far too near.

He's thrust back into the present with a jolt when Sonny, face overwhelmingly sincere, touches warm lips to his own. It's not right - it's not... His stomach itself lurches; oh, how many times he's envisioned this happening, the bright possibility of it, the new and amazing feeling surfacing as it finally does. Just a moment, and he's pulling away, not allowing himself to enjoy it. He knows just what to say to remove himself from the situation, he's well practiced in the art after all, and this'll all blow over soon enough. It'll be rough, sure, and awkward, and messy, but whatever. It needs to be done. This can't happen. He doesn't want it to.

_"Wow, what the hell is wrong with you?"_

Harsh rejection, he supposes and in hindsight he knows Sonny probably doesn't deserve the constant push-pull, the I-only-want-you-when-I-need-you side to their relationship. But he doesn't want to think about those things now, doesn't want to have to feel guilty. No. He wants mindless heterosexual relationships, doesn't he? He wants real love. He wants Gabi, he wants Sonny - he just wants _somebody_, he supposes. He wants to stop pretending, he wants to take the easy road out. He wants, wants, wants.

_How did I become this person?_

Greedy doesn't begin to describe the awful, ugly, shameless bad side of himself he's discovering, so like his mother's - no, worse. Sonny doesn't see it, or pretends not to, or maybe (here's hoping) doesn't care. He would be the first.

But now - Sonny is yelling back and, no, this isn't how things are supposed to go at all. Sonny, always so understanding, forgiving, patient... All he can think is: this is it. Congrats. You've finally succeeded. Pushed and pushed until he couldn't take it anymore. You always knew one day he'd grow tired of your crap, knew this day would come. But you hung onto hope anyway, foolishly. Testing, bending for all it was worth, and it broke it, as it was meant to.

_"It's like you have no feelings.."_

What is this?

He doesn't know how to handle this Sonny. One that pushed back, hard, unfair in his accusations, maybe even a little (a lot) selfish. But of course, Sonny had learnt from the best, hadn't he? So now he was using Will's own tactics against him. What a twist.

_"I do have feelings." Just not for you, _he doesn't say.

Something in him, that (annoyingly reasonable) little voice he'd stuffed out ages ago called his conscience, told him Sonny would be different in a day or so - a week apart, at best - and that he should just leave him be for now, let him suffer this sour-sweet encounter alone. Sonny wasn't a bad guy, he was simply upset (how rightfully so?) and fed up, and just needed to take a second to realize that. Will didn't need to hear these harsh realities, all he needed to do was walk away. But the more stubborn, masochistic part of him stayed put. The part of him that was his mother's child fought back. Would till the very end.

Soon the heated argument proves to be too much for his cowardly self and he takes off, leaving his confusion and heartache behind, or so he hopes. He knows they're never far behind, his trusty little monsters.

It seems whichever way he turns, he's bound to disappoint _somebody_. So instead he chooses to dig his heels in and do nothing, admit nothing, be nothing. Which is what he'd been doing for the last little while, but of course Sonny decided to call him on it now. Apparently hovering in the middlezone wasn't good enough for anyone either. How very frustrating.

He misses the old compliable Sonny; his friendship ever-loyal, easy. The one thing he never thought he had to question. Now, predictably, he's screwed that up as well. God, he truly wonders about himself sometimes...Whether he's as hell-bent upon his own unhappiness as he appears.

_I'm here...always...I just want to be by your side... You have no idea..._

He had Sonny to count on. Throughout all the mess, that was the one sure thing. He always had Sonny. And always would, because Sonny himself had promised forever and that meant everything. Will wasn't quite sure Sonny even really knew what that meant, though he said it enough to leave an impression.

_Now he's gone too. _

You've done it to yourself again.

Anger.

Disgust.

_disappointment._

That last one was the worst, because it hurt the best. He disappointed, angered, disgusted more people than he would like to think. T was absolutely right.

He wasn't _normal_ enough for his best friend, wasn't _out and proud_ enough for the guy with all the answers, not man enough for his father, no longer naive enough for his mother, not nearly heterosexual enough where his exes were concerned, or loyal enough for EJ Dimera, too much of a liar to face his too-quick grandmother... and for the rest of the town? something to be embarassed about, whispered, stared at ...and too much like his hypocritical mother to please himself.

Which of course all bubbled down to one cruel thing: hate for himself. Disgust, anger, dissapointment._ What a stupid, vicious cycle, _he thought...

It's been weeks, months now since he came out and it hasn't gotten much easier, or comfortable, being himself, especially here, now. He's still hurting more than he'd ever admit. The thought passes him by, why it's so easy to feel this pain and so much harder just to step up and face the very thing he has been - and always would be, it seemed - struggling with.

Sexuality. Such a simple thing, really. Yet right now it could be everything, with the way it appeared. Realistically, he accepts it, knows that there's nothing wrong with being gay, knows it doesn't make him any less of a man, knows he isn't about to start worshipping Madonna (or any of those other silly misconceptions) all because he likes men. But something always pulls him back, keeps him from showing too much of his true colours. Why? He couldn't tell you. It probably had something to do with the fact that he'd happily spent most of his life in his safety net, however obliviously. He wasn't used to this.."being himself," or so they called it. Didn't like the way it made him feel so _exposed_, vulnerable. It scared him.

He's so tired of it, of the defending, the explaining himself, the trying to make people understand when he didn't fully understand himself. He wishes he was straight, of course he does. Who wouldn't after all that his stupid, unco-operative hormones have gotten him? Lost friendships, the confusion, the pain, crazy out of his mind...

He knows he's over-dramatizing the whole thing (like his mother would), knows if he can just make it through the day without doing anything stupid than this little problem will likely go away on it's own. But the other part of him begs to differ, even rejoices at the sudden appearance of his ex-girlfriend. It's the perfect answer, isn't it?

Gabi looks at miserable and alone as he feels. _Well at least he's not the only one having a crappy day_, he thinks to himself as he trails after the girl (that left him behind) he left behind all those months ago.

Maybe-


End file.
